Page 26 of Renegade (The Santini Assassins #2)
ONE STEP FORWARD, TEN STEPS BACK
CAROLINE
C aroline had tossed and turned all night. At five-thirty, when the alarm pierced the early-morning silence, she drifted back to sleep. Forty-five minutes later, she woke with a start and bolted out of bed to get ready. Now, at quarter to seven, she was starting her Friday behind the curve.
While eating cereal at the center island, her phone rang.
Sipping her coffee, Sydney glanced over. “It’s the building concierge. Are you expecting a package?”
“No,” Caroline replied before answering. “Hello.”
“Stan Bowers is here. He said he’s taking you for coffee.”
Caroline flicked her gaze to her sister. “I don’t know anyone named—wait, does he have a small build, light brown hair, and glasses?”
“Yes, he said you’d know him as Stan from the club.”
“Is he with you or outside?” Caroline asked.
“Someone let him in. He’s at the desk.”
“I told him no,” Caroline said. “Please escort him out.”
“He said you’d say that?— ”
“Did you tell him my name?”
Silence.
“He didn’t know my name,” Caroline bit out. “Does he know it now?”
She knew the answer, but she needed the concierge to own up to his mistake.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you tell him where I live?”
“I did not.”
“Escort him out. If he returns, let me know.”
“Of course.” The line went dead.
Caroline set down her phone and stared at the uneaten cereal swimming in oat milk. “My bonehead move lives on.”
“Do you want to file a restraining order?” Sydney asked.
“I probably should, but I’m already late for work.” She dumped the soggy cereal down the drain, washed the bowl and spoon, and hurried down the hall.
Ten minutes later, she was out the door, but instead of riding the elevator to the parking garage, she stopped in the lobby. At the concierge desk, she eyed the man’s name tag.
“Hello, James. I’m the resident Stan Bowers came to see.”
His expression didn’t change. “Good morning.”
“Where did he go?”
“He left.”
“Did you tell him my condo number?”
James hesitated. “I told you I did not.”
“Yes, I know what you told me, I’m reconfirming that.”
“I did not.”
“If he stops by again?—”
“I told him you weren’t interested and he left,” said the concierge cutting her off. “I doubt he’ll be back.”
How in the hell did he know what Stan would or wouldn’t do? She’d fucked the guy and she didn’t know a damn thing about him .
As her blood pressure shot into the stratosphere, she decided to let it go. The concierge didn’t care. Her problem wasn’t his, and he wasn’t going to accept responsibility for his mistake. She held his gaze for an extra minute, opted not to threaten him, and said, “Thanks for doing your job.”
“You have a nice Friday.”
As she made her way to the elevator, she wanted to scream. In truth, she was angry at herself, but the concierge should never have told Stan her name.
Though she doubted she’d ever fire her weapon, knowing it was holstered inside her jacket gave her some sense of security.
Probably a false one.
The never-ending sea of traffic didn’t help with her mood.
She arrived at Langley, handed her badge to the security guard at the gate.
After she’d been cleared, she parked. Ten minutes later, she was sitting in a conference room with a coworker who was also a Haqazzii terror cell expert.
With her string of questions cued up, she began probing for intel.
The morning wore on as one meeting rolled into another.
Unfortunately, her colleagues knew no more than she did and, in most situations, less.
Before leaving for the Black Site, she downed two aspirin to silence the pounding in her head.
The clock was ticking, the month of April flying by, and she had nothing solid to go on.
As she drove out, she ran through everything she knew. De Clerq was dead, the terrorists were hiding in plain sight. From what she’d read, the corrupt government officials involved in helping the terrorists enter the country claimed they knew nothing about these international killers.
After turning off the main road in Great Falls, she pulled over to confirm she wasn’t being followed. She did that twice more before driving into BLACK OPS’s parking lot. The second the hangar door closed, relief relaxed her muscles.
Creepy Stan Bowers can’t breach these doors .
As she headed toward the office she shared with Grey, she heard voices coming from the break room. She stopped in the doorway and eyed the three men standing there.
Grey was talking with Dakota and Tank. Her heart skipped a beat.
Nope. It’s over.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. His crisp white shirt and black pants clung to him like a second skin. His sinewy muscles pressed against the material, and her mind jumped to dark places. She wanted to slowly peel them off him, strip him bare?—
Stop .
She was so drawn to him, she had to force herself to look at the other two men.
“There she is,” Dakota said.
Caroline acknowledged him with a smile. “How’s everyone doing?”
“How’d your meetings go?” Dakota asked.
“Not as productive as I’d hoped.” Her attention floated from Dakota to Tank—from the Santini restaurant—then back to Grey. Always back to Grey.
She might be angry with herself for hooking up with him, but she couldn’t deny the man had it going on. Today, he’d pulled his hair into a man-bun, and she let her gaze hover on his striking features.
“Hi, Tank,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Small world, don’tcha think?” Tank replied. “What’s the word?”
Caroline had plenty of words for Grey, but none bore uttering.
She poured herself a coffee, then left the break room. Grey caught up to her. “We’re workin’ in the conference room.”
“We?”
Going forward, she wasn’t assuming anything .
“You, me, Teddy—Tank,” he replied.
With a simple nod, she U-turned toward the conference room.
She wanted to sneak a quick peek at him and get rewarded with another adrenaline hit.
She wanted to run her fingertips down his beard and trace his perfectly kissable lips.
What she wanted wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not there and definitely not later.
Grey was a player, and she was stepping out of his playground.
He wrapped his hand around her arm, pulled her to a stop. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”
She regarded him. “Well, we have a group of terrorists having F for fun in our country. We don’t know jack about where they are or what they’re doing, but we know it’s not good.
I got very little sleep, then I overslept, and my concierge let that asshole from the club into my building this morning.
I could keep going, but you get the point. ”
She tugged her arm away, walked into the conference room, and unearthed her laptop. He shut the door, and she flicked her gaze his way. And everything Grey magnified a million-fold.
Beyond his obvious good looks, it was the confidence in his stance, the energy thundering off him, and the powerful way he commanded that small space that had her spellbound.
“Stan from last night?”
“That’s the one.”
“Please sit.” When she did, he sat at the head, catty-corner. “How’d he know where you live?”
“He gave me a ride home once.”
“What else does he know about you?”
“My name, thanks to the concierge.”
“Do you have a photo of him?”
“No.”
Greystone made a call, set his phone on the conference room table .
“Yo, brother,” Hawk answered.
“There’s a member at your club, goes by Stan,” Grey said. “We might have a stalker.”
“Hi, Hawk,” Caroline said. “His last name is Bowers.”
“Hey, Caroline. Hold a sec, I gotta log in.” Seconds later, Hawk said, “Got him. He’s been flagged and I made a note. If you file a complaint online or in the app, we can talk to him.”
“I’m gonna be super busy with work, so I’m not planning on going back to Lost Souls anytime soon,” she said, cementing her gaze on Grey.
“Thanks, Hawk.” Grey hung up, blanketed her hand with his. “We gotta make sure you’re safe.”
Though her pulse jumped, she pulled her hand away to reveal her Glock, tucked inside its holster. “I can take care of myself.”
Knock-knock.
The door burst open. Tank stood in the doorway. “Are we workin’ here?”
“Give us a minute,” Grey said.
“I gotta get my laptop.” Tank left, leaving the door wide open.
Grey closed it, sat back down. “What’s goin’ on with you? And don’t say nothin’. I can tell. It’s one of my super powers.”
She cracked a smile. “It’s all good.”
“ Caroline ,” he warned.
She loved the way he said her name, loved that there was an intimacy that drew her in, kept her locked on what he might say next.
“Talk to me.”
She sat there staring at him, wondering… should she wait until later or bring it up now? She didn’t want her personal issues getting in the way of their jobs.
“It’s none of my business. ”
“You’re killin’ me, woman. Work with me here. What’s goin’ on?”
“Some woman was waiting at your house last night and I?—”
The door opened, Tank bounded in, dropped his backpack on the table, and said, “I can’t wait to get started. It’s gonna be great working with you guys.”
“Teddy—” Grey protested.
Caroline pinned on a smile. “Tank—or do you go by Teddy?”
“Tank,” he replied. “The fam calls me Teddy.”
“What’s your area of expertise,” Caroline asked.
“Depends on the day, depends on the job. For this one, I’ve been searching the dark web for chatter, been keeping my ears to the ground for the terror group’s home base. I’ve been talking to chemical supply companies to find out who’s been ordering bomb-related supplies and how much?”
As Tank chatted away, Caroline slid her gaze to Grey.
He was waiting. His gaze softened and the energy that passed between them was palpable.
She couldn’t deny her feelings and she couldn’t deny that she hated that he’d been with someone else.
She had no right to him. They weren’t exclusive, weren’t even dating, but she knew how she felt, even if it was unjustified.